


Love and Inquisition

by RevanStar



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Gen, Multi, One Shot Collection, Polyamory, Romance, Spoliers, relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-04 18:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3078329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RevanStar/pseuds/RevanStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basiclly a collection of (mostly) femslash one-shots of different pairings. DAI has given me far to many pairings to ship. Some none femslash pairings will be explored or at the very least mentioned, not all relationships will be of romantic nature. And some just might involve more then two people!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Noble Intentions (Trevelyan x Josephine)

**Author's Note:**

> I do note own Dragon Age, all characters, settings, lore from Dragon Age belong to the copy right holders. This is a work of fan fiction and is done for zero profit. Do not distribute or archive without author's express consent. ect ect ect. And other legal stuff.

 

Right, never tried writing a Dragon Age story before. But Inquisition has caught my muse. Chances are this will just be a collection of random one-shots of various (femslash) pairings.  
  
 **Noble Intentions**  
 _(FTrevelyan x Josephine Montilyet )_

_========================_

Arabella Trevelyan was a woman of many titles, each more lofty than the last it seemed sighed softly under her breath as she pushed open the door of Skyhold, and slipped inside the warmth of the great hall.

 

With the Breach closed and Corypheus defeated, the Inquisition had found itself task with putting right many of Thedas' ills. From remaining Rifts, Vinitory and Red Templar to solving diplomatic disputes. Being hailed as the Savior of Thedas did not mean the work of Arabella, and the Inquisition was done.  
  
She strolled through the great hall, Arabella nodded politely to nobles and ambassadors from across the lands in whenever they caught managed to meet her eye. Many, she was sure, would love to speak to her, but having just returned from Highever, and a long week of speaking with Fergus Cousland, the green eyed woman had no desire for any further politics.

 

She moved quickly, through the crowd and through the door that lead to the part of Skyhold that housed the advisers and members of the Inquisition's inner circle. As she climbed the long flights of stairs up to the top of the hold, she mused, not for the first time, that one of the downsides to being a leader is that her quarters were the highest in the keep. Great view, lots of privacy, but utterly daunting when all she wanted was to fall into bed.  
  
Her room was warmed by the roaring fire in the large hearth, natural light from the setting sun spilling through the windows and across the floor. No doubt someone informed the staff of her approach, and had them prepare her room, and, judging from the rising steam from the large tube in the other room, a hot bath for her.  
  
 _Josephine no doubt, though she has never mentioned it before._  
  
She kept meaning to ask, but it always slipped her mind from one day to the next. And as she stripped herself of her armor, and soiled clothing to sink great-fully into the hot scented water, she promised herself she'd write herself a reminder to inquire about it.  
  
An hour later, freshly dressed and auburn hair still slightly damp from her wash, departed her quarters, thankful that Vivvian was not around to see her dressed so casually in black trousers and a commoners dark green dyed tunic. It had resulted in a lecture about the importance of appearance. Arabella had largely ignored the leader of the Loyalist Mages, only agreeing to dress to her station when the situation required it of her, a compromise that the fussy woman was rather displeased with, though she had accepted it eventually.  
  
The door to Josephine's office was closed, a fact that would normally mean very little to Arabella, but for the fact that Josie hadn't been in the courtyard to greet her, or even in her quarters, the former she had started just before they started courting, while the latter began after she had dueled Josephine's former betrothed. The lack of her appearance since her return likely meant that the Ambassador to the Inquisition could either be in an important meeting, or so deep in her work she simply had lost track of time.  
  
She stood in front of the closed door, hesitant, but mindful of the eyes of those in the great hall upon her. Raised voices from the other side of the thick wood caught her attention, and she strained her ears to make out the words that filtered through.  
  
“I can not believe that you would do this!”  
  
The sound of Josephine's voice, angered, and exasperated was easily recognizable to Arabella, who frowned with worry over what sort of news could distress her lover to the point of loosing her composure. The reply was low, the voice masculine, though she could make out no words.  
  
Arabella opened the door, without bothering to knock, acting as if she did not know that Josephine was speaking to someone. Or... Someones. As there seemed to be a half dozen additional people in the office, Josephine's sister among them.  
  
Heads turned at the sound of the door latching behind her, and the Savior of Thedas felt herself grow rooted to the spot. Six faces baring similar features to her lady ambassador, all looking at her.  
  
From behind her family, Josephine caught the started and wide-eyed look on her lover's face and felt for her. Her family's arrival was a surprise to her as well. Standing she politely stepped around her desk and her family both and approached the frozen Inquisitor on tentative steps.  
  
“My lady?” She questioned, respectfully and politely addressing her, though there was no disguising the affection or slight stress placed on the possessive.  
  
The sound of Josephine's voice snapped her out of her stunned state, eyes shifted from the gathered members of house Montilyet to lock with the warm and worried amber-flaked dark eyes of her love's. She offered a small, if a bit confused smile, wordlessly reassuring Josephine that she was fine, the ambassador feeling the some of the tension flow out of her shoulders at the look.  


Out of habit, Arabella reached out, her left hand finding Josie's ink stained right, fingers threading together with an ease born of comfort and familiarity. With no prompting, Josephine stepped forward and into her lover's space, her free hand coming to rest upon a hip even as Ara's hand came up to cup her neck, finger brushing against the line of her jaw. Their joined hands ended up pinned between their bodies as their foreheads come to rest against each other. Nose brushing in casual intimacy as the world narrowed to just the two of them.  
  
“Hi.” Ara was the first to speak, a soft whispered word that was more breathed then spoken as she inhaled the scents of honey and parchment, and something that was unique to her lover.  
  
“Welcome Home.” Josie replied, equally gentle in her greeting. Relishing in the warmth of Ara after nearly two weeks apart.  
  
Their reunions were rarely the passionate embrasses of lovers, least not outside of their newly shared quarters. Oh there were kisses stolen in the gardens, and that very exuberant display after the dual and Ara's very public deceleration of love. But their reunions were always simple and gentle things.  


With reluctance, the pair drew back, and Ara raised their joined hands, brushing a soft kiss against Josie's knuckles. The action still made Josephine's heart flutter and face flush with girlish delight.   
  
Someone cleared their throat, breaking the moment. The pair turned at the same time. And Josephine flushed once more, this time in embarrassment. Though she had bared witnessed to her own parents sharing many such warm embraces through out her life, it was another for them to see her and Ara caught up in each other. And for her siblings to see it! Oh, they would be insufferable now. Already she could see her brothers plotting and her sister had far off dreaming look on her face.  
  
“Inqui--” Josephine began, and then stopped, a gentle squeeze of her hand giving her pause. Dark eyes looked to Ara for a moment, who looked right back, eyebrow raised and a tiny smile tugging at the corner of her lips.  


Without words, Arabella both scolded Josie for being so formal, and teased her with the same look. Chuckling quietly, she playfully rolled her eyes back, and once more turned her attention to her family.   
  
“Ara, I'd like you to meet my family.”  
  
\------------------------------------  
  
Arabella released a happy sigh as she laid under the thick blankets of the bed she shared with her lover. Josephine was curled against her side, her head pillowed on her shoulder as they rested from hours of love making.  
  
The meeting with the Montilyets went well. They had exchanged many stories and the like over the course of the evening until Josie manage to excuse the both of them..

 

The two of them had retreated to their shared quarters. - not that Josie's family knew that little fact. - and caught up with each other. Cuddled on the sofa before the fire, glasses of warmed cider forgotten as they spoke about what each of them had been up to for the last two weeks. Josephine updated her on news of their different friends, and the day to day dealings of Skyhold and other diplomatic issues. Arabella told her of how things went at Highever, the state of the Storm Coast now that the Rifts in the area were closed. - To her delight, when she had casually mention that one of the new mabari pups at Highever imprinted on her, Josie simply gave her one of her exasperated looks and made it very clear that the hound was not allowed on the bed.   
  
Eventually the exchange of soft kisses and touches shared throughout their conversation lead to more amorous activities. The two women reconnecting on a more intimate level, as they soon moved to their bed.

 

Ara knew there was more to the family visit then she had been told. Josie was returning to Antiva in a few short months for her sister's art showing after all. The dual she had had with Josie's short-term betrothed was mentioned more then once, and both of Josie's parents had given her searching looks every time it was as well. And then there was the fact Ara's family had apparently written to state they too were on their way to Skyhold, and would arrive in a week.   
  
Granted, in the case of her family, she hadn't seen any of them since she had departed for the Conclave a year and a half ago. And she knew her family really did want to meet the woman who had captured her heart, as she wrote to them often, and mentioned Josie in nearly every letter it seemed.  
  
Needless to say Ara had a supision as to the sudden family visits. It was something she had been thinking about more and more recently. It was finding time to talk to Josie about it, let alone carry out her plan that was the issue.  
  
She ran through the reasons for the visit and all of her plans in her head as she combed her fingers through the dark strands of Josie's hair, the action rewarded by a soft pleased hum and a equally soft kiss to the side of her neck. 

 

“Josie?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
Arabella gave a unseen smile at the contented drowsy response. She brushed her fingers long the length of the ring finger on Josie's left hand, the action made the darker digits twitch against her stomach where Josie had rested her hand.  
  
“Darling?”  
  
Josephine question, her accent thicker then it would normally be, even after love-making, or when the ambassador is on the edge of sleep. 

 

“Marry me?”  
  
Ara asked in return, her voice shy, lacking its usual self assurance. She had wanted to do this right, dinner, candlelight, roses and wine. She had wanted to kneel before Josie, ring in hand as she asked. She even had been planning on making a speech. - But she suspected their families where coming here to tell them both that they've already arranged their marriage to each other. - Not a bad thing. But Arabella wanted to ask before it came up, before her Antivian beauty could think that marrying her isn't something she wants badly.  
  
“What?”  
  
The question had caught Josephine off guard, the woman going from nearly asleep to awake and alert in seconds. She sat up, supporting her weight with one arm on the mattress, and heedless of how the blankets fell and pulled around her nude waist.  
  
“Thats not funny Ara. Did my parents say somethin--...oh.”  
  
When Josephine set up, Ara took the chance to lean over and open the bedside table drawer on her side. She pulled out a small ring box. It was the sight of the little box that stopped Josephine's rant before it could even get started.  
  
“I had thought about this hundreds of times. Maker, I even read Cassandra's books for ideas.” Arabella began, both her and Josephine sitting up properly in bed, uncaring of their nudity as they faced one another. “No, you parents didn't say anything to me Josie, but I'm not stupid.” Here she smiled. Though it was tentative and nervous.  
  
“I can guess why they are here, and why mine are coming as well. So while I had wanted this to be perfect. I don't want you to think that.....” Ara sighed, frustrated at the situation and herself. Her palms were sweating, and she felt both hot and cold all at once. She wished she was more sure about this, more sure about Josephine's desires. But they had never talked about marriage.  
  
Straightening her shoulders and putting on her best serious face. Ara opened the ring box and pulled out the simple band of Silverite. There was no jewels or inlays, she knew that Josie didn't want a large rock on her finger. Having once confessed she found such rings to be unpractical, and a nuscence when working.  
  
Taking a breath, she looked into Josephine's eyes, the dark skinned woman's face a picture of surprise and hope and nervousness.  
  
“Lady Josephine Cherette Montilyet, would you do me the honor of accepting this ring, and sharing the rest of our days together in marriage, old age, with few kids and a slobbery mabari hound?”  
  
Josephine's chin quivered, and her eyes grew glassy with tears just before she lunged across the space the separated her and Ara, tackling the woman back in a strong embrace. Josie rained kisses on Arabella's pale, sunkissed face, Whispering a single word in Antvian over and over again as she did so.  
  
“Si! Si! Si Mi Amor.” She breathed just before she captured the free marsher's lips in a passionate kiss, both women smiling into it.  
  
When they parted for air, Arabella looked up, brushing the hair from Josephine's face so she could see her clearly. “My Antivian is a little rusty I'm afraid. But is that a yes?”  
  
The ambassador snorted and laughed at the teasing words of her love. “Yes. Yes Arabella Elizabeth Trevelyan, I will marry you, mabari hound and bad joke included.”  
  
The ring was a perfect fit, and the pair soon found themselves lost in the throws of passion once again.  
  


Later, once again snuggled against her new fiancee, Ara dreamed of sitting curled up on the couch with Josephine, a fire in the hearth, watching as dark haired child crawled along the floor, protected by a ever watchful mabari hound. 

 


	2. Embers (Celene x Briala)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A some what short Celene x Briala story, having recently seen a video of their reunion, and having just finished reading Dragon Age: Masked Empire, I couldn't not do this. 
> 
> *Spoilers for The Masked Empire, as well as the quest at the Winter Palace. (which I can not remember the name of)

 

 

**Embers**

_(Celene x Briala)_

**=====================**

 

The Winter Palace was quiet and still a week following the Grand Masquerade. Oh to be sure the whole of Orlais was positively buzzing about the events that took place in these very halls. And with no doubt, it would be spoken about for years to come. But tonight the Empress sat in her quarters in the guest wing, her hair unbound, and her face unmasked. She had exchanged the day time finery of her station for a simple night shift of royal sea silk, and a soft but warm dark blue shawl of lambs wool.

 

The night outside her palace was dark, heavy rain clouds had moved in late afternoon only to finally unburden themselves of their heavy load just after dusk. Celene sat at a small desk beside one of the windows, watching as the rain lashed against the glass panes.  
  
The candle beside her sputtered, and a grand clock some where down the hall chimed the midnight hour. The missives and correspondence that laid before her remained untouched, the cup of tea she had poured hours ago after her bath sat half drunk and cold.  
  
In the hearth, the fire that had burnt low gave a sudden snap-pop. And Celene tensed.

 

Sometimes, she still can smell the smoke from the fires of Halamshiral. When the bards strike up their merry tune about the Empress of Fire, Celene's mind blanks, returning her to that city, that day when she set fire to the elven city, burning out the rebel elves, her hand forced by her late cousin.

 

She hoped no one notice the way she would turn ashen and ill when the stench of fire drifts in from the many hearths burning in Val Royeaux that first winter. Or how the occasional snap-pop from a log burning would cause her to flinch just so.   
  
The list of conflicts that Orlais has faced in the last year were numerous. Each no small thing in and of themselves. But added together? The Orlaisan people have suffered much, too much of late. She could only hope and prey to the Maker that the Inquisitor could mend the Breach and stop the thrice-damn monster that had caused it. As she had help end the Mage-Templar War, and the Civil War here in Orlais.  
  
She had lost both of her closest cousins that night. One to the headman's ax, the other, she gave over to the Inquisition to face justice. She had little doubt that Inquisitor Adaar would come up with a suitable punishment. Adaar had struck her as a stern but fair woman. She had remained unflinching, even in the unfamiliar waters of the Great Game. But there was a gentleness to her that the Empress did not expect from a member of the horned giants. Revealed when Celene spied the Inquisitor sharing a dance with the Inquisition's Ambassador on a darken balcony.

 

That sight had both warmed her and made the Empress a little jealous. That the pair felt little reason to hide their relationship caused an ache of longing in her breast. A short lived desire to be able to share such openness with her own love that she had squashed with viciously at the time.   
  
Though she and Briala had rekindled that evening, they had yet to share a conversation that did not pertain to matters of business or politics. She hadn't expect things to return to the way they had been before. Before Halamshiral, before the their flight from the Dalish and their trip through the twisted paths of the lost and ancient elven empire. Before Briala had betrayed her in kind.  
  
No, she hadn't expected such.   
  
Even still, she had hoped. But a week had gone pass. And all her attempts had been met with no success.   
  
The headache that often presistant dull and throbbing flared between her eyes. She should have gone to bed hours ago. Another long day awaited her. But as she had done every night for the pass week, and most nights since their parting.

 

Celene waited.  
  
There was a silent shift in the air behind her. The whisper of cloth and leather, and a new shadow cast on the wall before her.   
  
The fire let out a series of small cracks in the quiet stillness. This time Celene could do nothing to hide the way she flinched. The muscles in her arms tensing, a tick in her jaw as she clenched her teeth together.   
  
And she knew the person to whom the shadow on the wall belong to saw all of it.   
  
The unmasked Empress kept her hands in her lap, and her eyes on the shadow. She watched as the shadows hands lifted, the action distorted by the flickering fire light. Something light in the thick plush carpet behind her as the shadow grew larger on the wall.   
  
Then suddenly, and yet not, tanned arms threaded over and around her shoulders. Freckled hands, scared and callused from blade work and physical labor came to rest on her shoulders, embracing her. She felt a nose barrow into her unbound white-blonde hair, heard the sound of a deep inhale being taken.   
Celene reached up with both hands, to clasp the forearms crossed around her shoulders tightly and her eyes slide shut, to try to commit to memory this moment.

 

Neither of them moved nor spoke for a long while. Simply remaining there.  
  
“I do not think the stench of smoke lingers in your hair any longer.”  
  
The words, spoken in a voice so dearly missed was like a whispered benediction. An absolution for her actions at Halamshiral, and perhaps for the deaths of her beloved's parents though neither she knew, would ever forget them.  
Celene let out a choked half sob and half laugh, her slender fingers squeezing tightly around the forearms that embraced her so.   
  
“How my heart ached with every heartbeat you have been gone.”  
  
She replied, speaking the echo of the words she last spoke to her love the day they parted. The arms around her slide down, well worn hands gentle in their grasp as she was encourage to stand and turn only to find herself looking into the unmasked face of the woman who held her heart.  
They could both see the wear of the heavy burdens they both carried during their separation on the the face of the other. The Empress in shift and shawl and newly made Marquise in a simple but fine dress. Both stared at the other for a long moment, taking in the new and the familiar.   
  
They moved at the same time. Tan fingers entangled themselves in fine white-blonde hair, as alabaster arms wrapped around the elven woman's waist, pulling themselves flush against each other. The smallest separation between their bodies no longer acceptable as their lips met again and again in ever. increasingly passionate joinings.   
  
They stumbled across the room, clothes being shed in desperation as the embers of passion and love rekindled and flared to life in their chest. Together, Celene and Briala fell into bed. The elven woman leaning over the blonde beauty, as they both struggled to regain their breath.   
  
A soft hand against her cheek stilled Briala when she had begun to lean down for another kiss. Their eyes met, and for perhaps the first time in many years, they could see each other clearly.   
  
“No more Masks Celene. No more Games.”  
  
It was a demand, a promise, a plea.   
  
“No more Masks or Games. Not between us Bria.”  
  
A declaration, a promise, a vow.   
  
There would be time to talk later. Celene knew they needed to if they were to have any hope of regaining what they had both lost. But for now, as she drew Bria into a slow and deep kiss, their nude bodies pressed tight together, limbs tangled in a need to somehow be closer. For now they needed to reaffirm that this was real, that they are real.   
  
No more masks, no more games. Come what may, Celene had every intention of making it so that like Inquisitor Adaar and Ambassador Montilyet, she and Briala could one day share a dance and more openly.   
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know what you think. I'm terrible with fluff. And I'm unsure as to my portrayal of the characters of Dragon Age. (Let me know if they seem OOC to you)


	3. Divine Reunion (Leliana x FCousland)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little different. Still fluff. But theres also a lot about the other characters. I wanted to kinda expand a little on my head canon as to what happened to the different companions from the other games after the events of Inquisition. Obviously not strictly canon compliant. 
> 
> *Spoilers for Inquisition and The Calling. 
> 
> (Additional Pairings mentioned or otherwise: Celene x Briala, Iron Bull x Dorian, Lace Harding x Krem, Alistair x Anora, FHawke x Isabella, FLavellan x Josephine, Morrigan x Alistair [one sided], Fiona x King Maric and bonus Cassandra x Fergus Cousland, - because why not?)

 

 

**Divine Reunion  
** _ (Leliana x FCousland)  
_ **** ========= =========

 

From the throne like chair sat upon a elevated platform, the newly name Divine Victoria watched with keen eyes the festivities of the grand ball that Empress Celene had thrown in her honor. Already she knew that those who sought to oppose her were gathering in secret, only two months on the Sunburst throne and she feared she might have to revert to the dark woman she had been before she became friends with Inquisitor Rowan Lavellan.   
  
_'Niceness before knives Leliana'_ The words of her dear friend Josephine echoed in her mind. Josie would be forever smug if she knew that such annoying words were now something that helped guide her.   
  
To the right of her seat stood Cassandra, armed, though unarmored, she had agreed to serve as her Right Hand for a time. The former Seeker was a invaluable friend, and amongest the few the new Divine trusted in this world. And knew well the dangers that faced those who held the Sunburst throne.  
  
To her left, Samara Hawke, the dashing rouge turn Champion had upon her return from the headquarters of the Grey Wardens, agreed to serve as her Left Hand. An amusing cross of sarcasm and diplomacy had endeared the Ferelden to her. And while Hawke admits to being Andrastian, her lack of blind faith was a mark in her favor, rather than the opposite as some might assume. 

 

She had hoped originally to name Rowan her Left Hand. But knew that the Inquisition was still needed. And she could not bring herself to split the elvan woman from Josephine. It was a hardship she knew herself, only too well. And one she would not wish on her dearest friends. Hawke's lover Isabella at least could come and go as she pleased, and Leliana did what she could to make it so.   
  
She had grown soft, a odd contrast to how she had been during her own time as the Left Hand, and Spymaster for the Inquisition. But, she reflected as she subtly adjusted the heavy hat of her station upon her head, it was not perhaps a bad thing. Thedas was in mourning still, and healing would take time and a more gentle hand if they wished to avoiding repeating the mistakes that lead to so much death and suffering. 

 

And besides, how could one preach about the love of the Maker, if service required them to forego experiencing even mortal love? Yet another reform she needed to make, the vows and oaths of service those within the Chantry took. One should know love if one expects to teach it. Be that the love of a parent and child, of siblings or friends or lovers.   
  
Her eyes scanned the Grand Ball Room of the Royal Palace, gladden to see many familiar faces amongest the guests. Empress Celene of course, and at her side the ever present Marquise Briala of the Dales. She was pleased to note the pair appeared to have rekindled, though they hid it well for now.   
  
Varric was also among the guest, and was at the center of a small gathering, weaving tales of the exploits of the Inquisitor no doubt. Dagna was there, holding conference with a number of mages, and even Sandle, the simple dwarven boy, now a man, with a master's skill for enchantment. Samara's sister Bethany seemed to be speaking with Dorian, Grand Enchanter Fiona and First Enchanter Vivvian. The foursome no doubt in a heated debate about the future of Mages in Thedas.

 

Isabella, the dalish Merrill, Sera and Zevran could be seen now and then; though the later wore a mask to hide his identity, weaved in and out of the crowd. Making trouble no doubt.   
  
The Iron Bull and his chargers stood around the food table, Leliana had borrowed them from the Inquisition as extra security. Former Scout Lace Harding was with them. The commoner born Dwarf was the Inquisition's new Spymaster. And was more hands on in the field then Leliana herself had been. The Orlasian nobles gave the group a wide berth. And unless her eyes played tricks on her, Krem and Lace seemed to be flirting while Bull's eyes would seek out the location of Dorian often. Love blooms in strange places.   
  
Anora and Alistair spun around the dance floor. Leliana was glad to see that the past decade on the throne had taught her former traveling companion to carry himself with the same grace in life as he did in full armor in battle. She made a mental note to set time aside during her up coming tour to visit her old friend. She spied with interest the way Grand Enchanter Fiona would keep a close eye upon the King. The strange expression on her face was both wistful and full of regret. Perhaps something to be looked into. 

 

There was of course other representatives from all over Thedas. Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven. Seers from Rivini, Merchant Princes from Antiva, Nobles from the Free Marshes. Firsts and Seconds from a number of Dalish clans. Leliana noted with no surprise that both the Montilyets and Rowan's Clan's Keeper were also here. 

It did however surprise her, though perhaps it shouldn't have, that Fergus Cousland was also in attendance, the broad shouldered man stood at the edge of the dance floor, having sent yet another noble woman off without the dance she so craved. As the only Teyrn, she had assumed he would in Ferelden to over see things while the King and Queen were away. She was glad however that he was there, resolving to speak with the older brother of her love later.   
  
It warmed her to see so many familiar faces in the sea of masked nobility of Orlais. Knowing that she had such support put her mind at ease even with the resistance she would face in the coming months and years.   


There was the sound of a throat being cleared to her right, bright blue eyes shifted from their sweep of the ball room to Cassandra, their gaze bright and warm in their regard of her right hand.   
  
“Leli---” Cassandra began, then caught herself “Your Holiness. Who is that man just there?” She gestured, and Leliana followed the action, her lips twitched up when she realize that the man in question was none other then Fergus. Leliana took in the faint flush that had risen to the cheeks of her normally stern friend.   
  
“You may address me by my name Cassandra. We are friends no?” She couldn't help but tease gently. They had served side by side for years, and frankly, Leliana would never feel comfortable with the Neviarian woman addressing her so formally. The sooner she find a perminate Right Hand the better, least their friendship end up in ruins. “As to your question. That is Fergus Cousland. Teyrn of Highever.” She paused, her face a mask of cool indifference though inwardly she took delight at the way Cassandra's eyes widen just so.   
  
“Go on Cassandra.” The redhead pressed her hand against the small of Cassandra's back, to gently encourage the woman away from her side.   


The former Seeker nodded dumbly before removing her sword belt, which she left in the care of Leliana. Had it been any other woman under that hat, the dark haired woman would have never considered leaving her post, let alone handing over her weapon. But Leliana was perfectly capable of defending herself if need be. And while a long sword was not her preferred weapon of choice, she could wield one with some skill.  
  
The former Spymaster turn Divine watched as Cassandra made her way across the ball room to Fergus. Words were exchange and to her amazement, and that of the assembled nobility, minuets later Fergus was leading her friend onto the dance floor.   
  
A low chuckle to her left made her smile. Obviously Hawke was amused by the normally brash Seeker's behavior.   
  
“Oh quiet you. Go find you own lover before she gets into too much trouble.” She all but ordered without a single glance towards her Left Hand. She heard, more then saw Samara depart. Though minuets later the Champion of Kirkwall showed up on the dance floor with her Pirate Queen. 

 

Leliana watched her friends move around the dance floor. Cassandra surprising everyone with her grace, Fergus looking younger then he had in years as he spun the former seeker around. Samara and Isabella locked in a intimate two step sway, though it was clear neither of them cared in the slightest. Alistair and Anora the picture of the ideal royal couple, their forced marriage having grown into love over the years.   
  
To the shocked gasps of nobles, Empress Celene lead Marquise Briala in a dance, the pair a little too close then proper. If they had eyes for anyone else but each other, they didn't let on. And as the eyes of those that gathered turned to her to see her reaction, to take their cue from the new Divine, she simply smiled.   
  
And Josephine and Rowan. The Dalish hunter lead her long time friend in a dance that span the floor, the way they moved together was truly beautiful, like something straight out of a romance novel. 

 

It made her ache for a simpler time, when her warden had lead her in a merry dance around the camp fire during their race against the blight. Or the slow swaying dances they shared in the months and years that followed, often to music only they could hear.   
  
She hadn't heard from Elizabeth in what seemed like an age, not since that letter she sent during the hunt for Corypheus. She knew her love was close to finding a cure, a fact that lead to Leliana all but begging Enchanter Fiona to share with Eliza everything she could recall about the events leading up to the Enchanter from being freed of the Taint that affected all Grey Wardens as well as her own research into the matter.   


Maker she missed her terribly. Even with their short lived separation during Eliza's tenor as the Warden-Commander of Ferelden and the strain her appointment as Justinia's Left Hand had placed upon their relationship, those first few years after the Blight were some of the happiest she ever known. But for some reason the Taint sought to take her love sooner then predicted. They had traveled together, along with Alistair to Soldier's Peak to speak to the ancient Grey Warden blood age Avernus. The man had examined both of the Wardens, taking samples, preforming tests. 

But it had been for naught. Avernus had long since theorized that those who joined during a Blight would be consumed by the taint faster. But as Alistair had only joined a year before Eliza, he had felt that the theory did not apply in this case. Nor did the theory that their greater then usual exposure to Darkspawn hold weight either. The blood mage finally theorized it was because Eliza was the one who struck the killing blow against the Archedemon, and lived, that the taint was accelerated in her blood. 

 

The old man had delighted in finding out how such a thing, a Warden surviving slaying an Archdemon, was done. Even going as far as congratulating the pair of Wardens on their 'by any means' approach to the Blight.   
They had left Soldier's Peak with Avernus promise to continue to look into the matter. And a grime time line that Eliza had maybe a decade or more to live, instead of the twenty or thirty she had originally been told. 

 

They had tried to move pass the dark prediction. But when morning, Elizabeth discovered a dark rough spot on the inside of her left forearm while bathing and recognized it for what it was. She had decided she would not wait quietly for the Taint to take her. And so, after week spent together secluded from the outside world Eliza departed for parts unknown.   
  
That was six years ago. The time line Avernus had given was more then half spent. Leliana hoped that even if her love failed to find a cure, she would return home, to her, one last time. Even if she was raked with the signs of her loosing battle with the Taint. Even if the last sight she had of her beloved was of her back as she walked into the Deep Roads to meet her Calling. She would give everything she had up, the Sunburst throne, the title, the power, everything, to see her, to hold her even just one more time. 

 

 _'Maker, bring her back home please.'_   
  
She had thrown herself into her position as Justinia's Left Hand after Elizabeth left. And slowly she became someone she had sworn she'd never again be. The Nightingale. It had been who she was back when she was still naive enough to believe that Marjolanie loved her. The person who her former Bard Master and one time lover made her to be. Marjolanie had been correct when she said she knew Leliana, after all, she made her everything she claimed her to be.   
  
But her time in the Cloister in Lothering helped her recover from more then just the physical wounds of Marjolanie's betrayal. Lothering had been a quiet and peaceful village, far removed from the Great Game of Orlais. What Lothering could not do for her is help her make peace with her past. It was the Gauntlet in the Temple of Sacred Ashes, it was confronting and even killing Marjolanie after so long. It was ultimately the love of one young Ferelden noble turn Grey Warden, the warmth of having true friends in those she had fought besides during the Blight, that finally help her be the person she could be, wanted to be.   
  
She thought that woman gone after so many years of being the Nightingale, in service to Divine Justina. She thought whatever was left of that woman had died with the last Divine at the Conclave. During those cold nights in Haven after Cassandra and her declared the resurrection of the Inquisition, she worried she had become someone that her love wouldn't recognize should Eliza still live, and then she would push those worries aside, excusing her actions as necessary.   
  
It was the patience of Josephine, and the unyielding faith of Cassandra, and one very stubborn Dalish elf that brought Leliana back to the surface after so long under the mask of the Nightingale. The hope that Eliza's letter to her brought had been a breath of fresh air, the first rays of sun after a long night. Josie had teased her the few times she had caught her humming in the days that followed. And though everyone in the Inquisition had been under a great deal of stress, the threat of the Breach and Coryphious still at the time loomed heavily over their heads. She had notice her agents had been far more relaxed around her as well.   
  
Even Morrigan, a woman she had once shared a great animosity for during their travels to stop the Blight had commented on the positive change.   
  
_"'Well well, humming are we? Tis a most refreshing change. I for one am glad to see that your sickeningly bright disposition has somewhat returned to you."'_ The words had shocked her at the time. The dark witch and her had never gotten along well, trading verbal barbs like arrow volleys during a siege. But a decade and motherhood had changed Morrigan, smoothed out many of the rough edges, though she was as sharped of wit and tongue as ever. 

 

Still the consurn Morrigan had shown had been as touching as it had been surprising. It had lead to a very long conversation between the two of them. One that was perhaps sorely needed on both their parts.

It had been only after Morrigan had sworn her to secrecy did the witch confess to a great many things that Leliana had always wondered. No, Kieran did not know the identity of his father. Though he knew he was alive, and was once a Grey Warden, and that Morrigan was sure his father loved him, though they had never met. Leliana had been shocked, was still shocked in fact at the confession of attraction and even the stirrings of love that Morrigan had felt for Alistair towards the end of their journey. But Alistair was to be King, and Morrigan was an apostate whom Alistair had laid with only to ensure his own survival and that of their mutual friend. It was a love lost before it could even truly be found Morrigan said. And begged for the matter to be left at that. 

  
Morrigan and her son had departed Skyhold in the cover of darkness once the Breach was sealed. At least this time the woman had bothered to say her fair-wells, though she would not say as to where she and her son would go. For now, Leliana was content to allow her her secrets and her privacy. Though she did hope to one day see mother and child again. 

 

So lost in her thoughts and memories, Leliana barely notice the small commotion at the entrance of the ball or the swell of whispers threw out the room that caused the very air to buzz with excitement. Nor did she see Fergus speaking to the musical conductor or hear little later the change in music that the assembled orchestra for tonight began to play.   
It was only when a hand, offered plum up and held out to her, and the a voice she hadn't heard in six years spoke was she brought back to the present.   
  
“May I have this dance my lady?”  
  
**===== === ===== === ===== === ===== === ==== === ===== === =====**

 

Six years, six very long years. For all Elizabeth Cousland, former Warden-Commander cared, those six years had been an Age. They had not been kind years either, and as she studied her face in the mirror of her brother's suite. She noted the changes time had wrought upon her. She looked like her Mother now. A observation Fergus had taken delight in. Time had mellowed the grief they both felt enough that such words no longer hurt the way they would have the last time they saw one another.   
  
He was right of course. She did look like their Mother had when they had been but children, much as he looked like their Father. In the mirror, her Mother's striking green eyes stares back at her. The thin streaks of gray that had begun showing up in her hair three years ago were now silver and made up the vast majority of her formerly raven colored locks. The result of the Taint or the hardships she had faced she knew not. There was little she could do to style the unruly shaggy shoulder length locks beyond a good brushing and pulling it back into a low and loose ponytail Hair-cuts these last six years had consisted of a sharp belt knife, and done by feel. And she never had the skill with styling that her mother or her love had. Her face was more weathered, and thinner then it had been before. Not unattractively so, but she didn't look like she was twenty any longer. She had scars of course, some more faint then others. Some so faint from time she could no longer remember how she gotten them. And others more recent. Most where small. But none she felt subtracted to her looks. If anything they added to it. 

 

She had received three letters in addition to a reply from Leliana. 

 

The letter from Avernus came as no surprise, he was her primary contact during her hunt for a cure. He confirmed what she had discovered, that they were close, very close to a cure for the Taint. In his letter he speculated that what they had thus far might work as a cure for non-wardens who contracted the Blight sickness of it could be administered soon enough. But it wasn't a sure thing. He also theorized that many of the ingredients could be used as a cure of sorts for those suffering from lyrim addiction. Both were important possibilities, though Avernus cared only for the former rather then the latter.   
  
The second letter was from a Grand Enchanter Fiona. Of whom Elizabeth knew only by reputation. It seemed that the unrest that had just been beginning when she had left Thedas had come to head, and the Grand Enchanter had been the leader of the Mage Rebellion, which because of a number of events, now was allied with the Inquisition. Being an ally of the Inquisition would explain how the woman had managed to reach her. The mage shared with her her own tale. Of how she ended up free of the Taint. She wondered if the Grand Enchanter knew how much she gave away in her letter. She was careful in her wording. But Eliza could read the sorrow of a lost love when Fiona wrote of the late King Maric. 

 

The third letter had been the most surprising. It was from Morrigan. She had not seen nor heard from her friend since she watched her walk through the Eluvian. The missive was of such a length that Eliza had been amazed that the messenger raven could even bare its weight. Her friend wrote of a great many things. Telling her of her son, her travels and trials. Of the wonders she had seen. But more then that, she gave to Eliza what no one else would be willing or able to. The truth on how bad the situation was. And how Leliana was actually doing. The threat of the Breach and Coryphious was dire. Though Morrigan seemed strangely sure that a solution would present itself and victory would be had. It was this assurance that had kept Eliza from racing to Skyhold to lend her aid in anyway possible. 

Her account on Leliana however would have brought her to her knees had she not been already sitting. She knew the separation was hard on them both. Just as she had known, even before the discovery that the Taint would take her decades to soon, that her love's duties weighed heavily on her. But she hadn't pressed, hadn't pushed. She had assumed that with time Leliana would open up to her about the things that bothered her. Justinia had asked to much of her love. Far to much in Eliza's opinion. And if the woman hadn't already been dead... 

 

Morrigan did write that hearing from her had seemed to lift Leliana's spirits though. 

_“She almost seems her old insufferable cheery self. I shudder to imagine how she will glow upon your return, healthy, whole and most importantly, cured. Do try to finish your quest with haste, I could almost like this Nightingale if not for the fact you would loose your precious Leliana.”_

The letter from the former witch-of-the-wilds had made her laugh and cry in equal measure. And she had been glad to hear from her friend after so long.  
  
The final letter from Leliana was what she expected from her love. Coded and never mentioning a single name. She did express how much she missed and love her. And how happy she was to know she was well. It was a letter she read and re-read a hundred times, and kept folded in her shirt pocket under her armor and close to her heart. 

 

Between the information provided by Fiona and that last missing piece she had been searching for, months later she got the letter she had waited for for six long years.   
  
_' "Rather like a Joining, but no death. That stupid drunk dwarf had waddled off to his quarters mumbling about single handedly siring a legion of sons and daughters now that he has a clean bill of health. Remind me to burn those sheets." '_  
  
She had laughed then, laughed long and loud until she had wept in the middle of nowhere with only the Maker and his Bride as witness to her joy and relief. She had made haste back to Soldier's Peak where she met with Avernus, and spoke to Oghren, the latter of which was very free of the Taint. According to Avernus the dwarf suffered no ill side-effects from the potion. Indeed, from what he could tell, many of the common side-effects of being a Warden, the increased appetite, the greater stamina was still there, though the Taint was no longer present in his system at all. Further more, the mage noted, Oghren seemed to be enjoying an increased sex-drive, and had a greater fertility rate then the average dwarf, equal to that of a healthy human male.   
  
Avernus continued to explain the details of the potion and what was needed to make it. Thankfully, now that they knew how to, it wasn't a hard potion to reproduce. And with some experimentation he believed they could create a number of very useful potions and tonics based upon it. A cure for the Wardens, a cure for the blight-sickness, something for lyrium withdraw, even evidently perhaps a fertility potion for the dwarfs or others.   
  
It had been the first time Elizabeth had ever seen the ancient Grey Warden so excited. And she could almost see the passionate young man he must have been before everything had gone wrong for the Wardens of Soldier's Peak so long ago.   
  
For now, both she and Avernus agreed that the existence of this potion, and its potential needed to be kept a secret. Not to withhold it from those who needed it. But rather to ensure that it didn't fall into the hands of those who would exploit it. Oghren, in a show of rare seriousness agreed to this, knowing that the Dwarfs alone would go to war for a potion that could cure the blight, or increase their fertility. None of them wanted pointless blood-shed.   
  
Free of the Taint, Elizabeth had left. Her travels first to Soldier's Peak, and then to Highever had been sobering. The evidence of the Mage-Templar war, the Orlasian Civil-War and the Breach Crises was clear for all to see. It would take decades for southern Thedas to properly recover. Ferelden alone might need the rest of the age to do so, having still been recovering from the Blight. She had also felt some what uneasy at the signs of Inquisition presence, knowing little about the organization and its leader but for what Leliana and Morrigan had wrote in their letters, and from what she got from rumors as she traveled along first the Imperial Highway, then the King's Highway.   
  
Arriving at Highever had been a surreal experience. And in an effort to keep her return a secret, least it reached Leliana's ears before she could see her herself, she had snuck into her old home through the secret passage that she had escaped from that dark night with Warden Duncan.  
It had gone well up until the moment when her own brother, not recognizing her due to her tattered hooded cloak had attempted to gut her. Years of surviving on her own had honed her skills and instincts both that she had drawn her blade and disarmed her brother in six quick moves, only drawing her hood down when her blade was at her brother's throat.   
  
Fergus, she smiled to recalled went from shock to furious to over come with joy as soon as he recognized her. From there it had been a warm reunion, and he had managed to fill in the gaps that erratic letters and tavern gossip just couldn't fill. Elizabeth had been surprise to know that he never remarried. He knew it was his duty to do so, to sire a heir and continue their family line. She understood, if Leliana was ever unexpectedly torn away from her, she would likely never move on herself. Even still, she did not think Oriana would want him to remain alone. And doing so would only in fact honor the memory of his late wife and their son Oren instead of dishonoring it as he feared. 

 

She was in Highever for well over a week before Fergus confessed that he had been invited, as a guest of Alistair to attend the Grand Ball in Orlais to honor the new Divine Victoria. Or, he had given her a wicked smile that reminded her so of their Father, Leliana, as she would know her.   
  
Her reaction had been mixed at the news to say the least. On one had she was happy for her love. They had often spoke of the things that were wrong with the world and the Chantry. And she knew Leliana had, with out a doubt a great deal of reforms in mind that would change things for the better. But she was also scared for her. And hurt. Hurt because as far as she knew, the Divine was not allowed to be involved in any sort of relationship.   
  
Plus, from what she had seen of the clergy, the hats have only gotten uglier in her time away. Poor Leliana must froth at the mouth every time she puts on so ugly a thing.   
  
Eliza had seen Fergus' invitation as her chance to slip in unnoticed as his plus-one. So they had traveled first to Denerim, where she had been reunited with Alistair. Tears had been shad. Mostly by Alistair though he would deny it, and had in fact claimed to have had a eyelash stuck in his eye. She had been so happy to see that Alistair and Anora both had found happiness in each other, though they remained childless. Privately, she had spoken to Alistair late on the eve of their departure about the cure, and its positive side benefits. He had sworn secrecy about it, but the skip in his step and spark in his eyes the following day, and the fact Anora had a difficult time walking that morning betrayed his exacerbate joy over the matter and renewed hope of a family of his own.   
  
The trip to Val Royeaux was uneventful but for her bought of sea sickness. Fergus laughed at her, and had teased her for loosing her sea legs. She had of course responded with a vualger gesture before she had returned to emptying the meager contents of her stomach over the side of the ship. From there it was a sort carriage ride to the Royal Palace, she disgusted as a member of the Royal Guard managed to slip in behind the Royal couple and her brother undetected.   
  
Her Fergus, along with Alistair and Anora had left for the ball two hours ago. Orlasian balls tended to last well into the evening and even into the wee hours of the morning. So she had little consurn about missing the thing. She fussed a minuet longer to tug and straighten her doublet in Cousland blue and green and white with her family's crest sewn on the left breast. Her late Mother would have thrown a fit to see her dressed in so masculine of clothing for a Orlasian Grand Ball. However she was a warrior first, and a noble lady second. And she was here to sweep her lady love off her feet. Thus she wanted to look the part of a dashing noble knight. She could not do that in a ball gown.   
  
She pass her hands over her double and black trousers one more time to smooth out any wrinkles before a final check in the mirror confirmed that she was as good looking as she could get. Which was of course, a lot better then she had looked in years. The healthy flush to her cheeks, and warm pallor of her skin, tanned from the sun out west that had yet to fully fade. For all Leliana might have complained of Ferelden food being so bland, it was filling and fattening. Elizabeth hadn't looked or felt this healthy in years. 

 

There was no signs of the Taint in her body, and but the change in hair color and a few scars and a bit of discoloring on her left side where a large blight patch had formed a year ago, there were no signs she had ever been tainted. Like Oghren the only side-effect of the cure was that she appeared to have kept both the famed Warden appetite and stamina. She couldn't hear the song, the calling any more. And her nightmares, when she had them were the normal ones of a seasoned warrior. 

 

She was no longer a Grey Warden, in name and in body. And she had no duties beyond that to her brother as the younger sibling. And those, Fergus had no intention of pressing her into. And those to her King, and Alistair she knew, like Fergus would not press her about them. She was, for perhaps the first time in years. Free. Truly free to choose her path and future.   
  
Maker willing, Leliana was a part of that future, Divine Victoria or no. 

 

Leaving her brother's guest suite, she drew attention as she made her way to the grand ball room, whispers following her in her wake. Her hair in color and length may be different, and a decade may have passed, but the fabled Hero of Ferelden was still a face easily recognized. That she was dressed in House Cousland colors, only enforced her identity.   
  
Even so, she was relieved that no one tried to stop her. And once she was in the ball room, it took some fast thinking and even faster talking to convince the herald not to announce her. The hard parts done, Eliza set her eyes to the other side of the ball room where Leliana, as Divine Victoria sat. And to Eliza's great amusement, the hat was as atrocious as she had thought it would be. Now, she just had to get across the room, without the notice of her love. A challenge. For to date Elizabeth had never been able to sneak up upon Leliana.   
  
As she moved through the gathered nobles and other guest of importance she made note of the familiar faces among the crowd. That Fergus was dancing with the Right Hand of the late Divine Justinia was something she would have to tease her brother about. Later though. Much later, preferably if things went as well as she dared to dream they would. 

 

The former Warden-Commander did not stop for any reason. Always on the move, every step made to bring her closer to her target as she weaved through the both masked and unmasked nobles, dignitaries and ambassadors. She ignored the whispers that followed in her wake, as if in doing so, they would not reach the ears of the Divine before she did. 

 

Andraste's tits, even in that stupid ugly hat, Leliana was every bit as beautiful as the day she had left. She could see the signs of stress in the corners of her love's mouth. The exhaustion in the dark bags below her eyes that even the best makeup and powders and creams could not quite fully hide. And the years in the tiny little crows-feet by those brilliant blues that she wished to drawn herself in for the rest of her days. 

She could tell that Leliana was distracted, lost in thought. Wool gathering even. Either she was so deeply troubled that all else faded to the background. Or the room was full of those she trusted with her life and she felt she could afford to let her mind wonder so. She sent a wordless prey that it was the latter that allowed her to approach so closely without detection thus far by the red-haired woman. 

 

She was within a few steps when the room slowly fell silent. Eliza could feel the pin-prick of every eye in the ball room being upon her as she stepped forward and one foot upon the platform on which Leliana sat on a throne like chair before she bowed low and held out her right hand in askance.   
  
“May I have this dance my lady?”  
  
It was if the whole room collectively held its breath. It was no secret that the new Divine had been involved with the Hero of Ferelden during and in the years following the Blight until the Cousland woman vanished. Their tale was like something out of a grand romance. And though those of suspicious minds might wonder at the timing of the Hero's return. All could tell from slight limp she walked with that where ever she had been all these years, her journey had not been easy.   
  
And so they waited, eager to see if the fable romance of the Hero and the Bard would end in tragedy or triumph. And many wondering what it would mean, for a Divine to have a lover.   
  
Up on the platform, blue eyes met green for the first time in six years. Glassy eyed Leliana placed her hand in Eliza's, allowing their hands to fold gently together as she slowly stood.   
  
“Its... Maker, is it really you?” Leliana's voice cracked, her eyes welled with tears that threaten to spill. The hair was different, but those eyes, Leliana would know those eyes anywhere.   
  
“Yes. Its really me. I did promise I would come back to you.” Eliza replied, her voice still the same, though it was rough with emotion, her own eyes glassy as she tighten her hold on their joined hands.   
  
“And a Cousland always keeps their word.” Came the choked but teasing reply born from the knowledge of how Eliza's Father had drilled into the heads of both his children the values of Duty and Honor and Family. Leliana cleared her throat, glancing away in order to compose herself before she met Eliza's eyes once more. “I believe you asked for a dance? I find no reason to deny you such a thing Lady Cousland.”   
  
The words and tone were more formal. But Eliza knew that spark of playfulness that danced in those blue eyes she so adored. Barely able to contain the grin that wanted to stretch across her face, she nodded. “Indeed I did my lady, uh.. partran me, your most holy. But first....” 

 

Leliana knew what was coming and beat Eliza to it by removing the large hat that marked her as Divine. She ignored the shocked gasps of those assembled in the room as she sat the thing upon the chair which she had vacated. When she looked back up at Eliza she giggled at the pout that she was given. She did not however stop her love when she reached up and ran her fingers through her fiery hair, smoothing it out from the mess removing the hat had made of it.   
  
She could hear the rumble of outrage and shock from members of the Chantry over anyone taking such famiarities with the Divine. And maybe later, much much later Leliana would care. But she doubted it.   
  


Taking Eliza's arm when it was offered, the moved together to the dance floor where the other dancers, Alistair and Anora, Celene and Briala, Hawke and Isabella, Lavellan and Josephine, Fergus and Cassandra and other pairs once more had begun to dance as if the sight of the Divine sharing such intimacies with the Hero of Ferelden was a common occurrence instead of a think to remark upon.   
  
Leliana was quick to notice the slight limp and slow her steps to match those of her love as they took their places on the dance floor. They did none of the fancy dances of Orlais, nor the saucy dances of Antiva. They didn't dance any dances of any country. Instead they did the slow circling waltz of two lovers 

 

They both knew that later, after they had sequestered themselves away from prying eyes the tears would come. They would release and share with each other six years worth of hurt and pain and loneliness. They would cry from the overwhelming joy of their reunion, and from the relief that the Taint would not separate them. And when they have cried themselves out they would make love for the first time in six years. Relearning each others bodies anew, mapping and soothing every scar and blemish their trials and the years have marked them with. Reconnecting and affirming that yes, their love still burned as bright has it had since that first night over a decade ago.   
  
And they would talk. Talk about the cure, and what it means, talk about Leliana's appointment as Divine. They would talk about their friends and loved ones, and talk about everything that has happen to them since their separation. And they would talk about their hopes and dreams for the future. And when Elizabeth would whisper softly that she wished to marry Leliana, the redhead would throw back her head and laugh, asking 'Again?', both of them with grins so large that their faces hurt, the memory of the late Divine, the then Revered Mother Dorthia marrying them in that tiny Chantry in Valence one of the happiest for the both of them. That she was both the Divine and a wife was not an issue in Leliana's mind. After all, Andraste herself had been married. Why couldn't she? And when she asked if Eliza would be her Right Hand, the former Warden laugh, swiftly kissing away the hurt expression on her love's face before informing her that Right Hand or no, she was her wife and her love, and she needed no special title to protect her with all she had. 

 

They both knew, as dawn came and went, that theirs was no easy path. But they would some how find a way to balance their roles as Divine Victoria and the Right Hand, with their lives as Elizabeth and Leliana Cousland. And they knew they didn't have to do it alone. They had friends and family to help them after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness, this one really got away from me. I had no idea it would turn out to be a little over 7000 words long. Oops? I imagine no one will complain about its length however.   
> I am sure this is littered with mistakes with spelling, grammar and punctuation as well as other typos. Remember. These one shots are unbeta'd.
> 
> As always, let me know what you think. And if theres a particular (femslash) pairing or such you'd like to see.


	4. Cold Weather Survival (Josephine x Leliana & Cassandra x Lavellan)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a two-fer for y'all. I had wanted to include more, but sadly ran out of steam and could not think of any more pairings or situations that worked with the idea of this chapter.

 

**Cold Weather Survival**   
_ (Josephine x Leliana & Cassandra x FLavellan)  
_ ** ===== === ===== **

 

It was common knowledge that when the temperature dropped, the best way to keep warm was the shared warmth of bodies huddled together under layers of fur and canvas. The reality however, was a great deal more awkward, more embarrassing then grizzled soldiers and harden mercenaries would make it seem.   
  
_**Haven:**_ _(Josephine x Leliana)_ __ **  
  
**Josephine feared she would never get used to how cold it was in the high set mountain village of Haven. Far from the warm sea air of Antiva City, or the more temperate climate of Val Royeaux, the dark skinned beauty shivered near constantly any time she was outside of her warm office. For the life of her she could not understand how anyone could stand it. The days were cold and damp. And the nights!  
  
Maker's breath the nights were down right freezing! Even wearing the thick wool long undergarments Seeker Pentaghast had recommend to her and huddled under a heap of fur blankets with a roaring fire going in the hearth of the tiny quarters she shared with Cullan and Leliana did little to still the tremors that quaked her body in the night. 

 

Tonight was the coldest it had been since they had arrived before the Conclave. Josephine had retired early, exhausted from weeks of little sleep due to the cold, and the near constant demands of her station within the Inquisition. Commander Cullan was away for the evening on night patrol with some of the soldiers. And Leliana she knew would not turn in until the last of her birds returned to their nests.   
It was her hope that by then she would have warmed up under her mountain of blankets enough to fall asleep and not disturb her roommates and colleagues.

She tossed and turned in her bed, her tumbling fingers clenching the blankets tight around her shoulders as she cocooned herself in the blankets. It seemed like no matter how she shifted a foot would land in a cold spot on the sheets, or the blankets would part to allow a draft between the folds and up the back of her wool undergarments. 

 

It wasn't until she heard the chamber door open and closed over the sound of her chattering teeth did Josephine have any clue just how long she had been laying in bed. The Antivian woman tried to still her shivering and quiet the chatter of her teeth, as she listened to the sound of her roommate changing. However the cold fingers that brushed against her cheek minuets later as her bed dip down let her know that she was unsuccessful in her endeavor.   
Rolling onto her back she faced Leliana who despite the the dark shadows under her normally vibrate blue eyes, dulled with exhaustion and stress and grief, smiled kindly at her. Unlike her, the Spymaster was dressed in a over size cotton tunic, and not much else. Her pale legs, bare and exposed to the mountain air that even inside was far to cold for Josephine's liking.  
  
“You really can not handle the cold can you Josie?” The words were light, teasing, fingers icy from the freezing night air brushing the hair that had come loose from her bedtime braid from her face.   
  
“No. I do not believe I've been properly warm since we left Orlais. Maker, spend most your time outside. How can you stand it Leliana?” Her words got her a undignified snort from her friend, her expression amused.   
  
“I spent a few years in Ferelden no? During the Blight those I traveled with and myself slept nearly every night outside.” Leliana so rarely spoke of her adventures with the Wardens to stop the Blight that it was hard for Josie to imagine her beautiful friend doing such things. But the look on the redhead's face spoke of her fondness for those memories, even if they were during such a dark time as a Blight. “I suppose I have grown as used to the cold and the wet as any Ferelden.” If there was more that Leliana had been about to say it was cut off by a violent shiver from the Ambassador.   
  
Chuckling Leliana daftly untangled and lifted the blankets, sliding under the thick pile of fur and cloth as if it was an every day occurrence. “Scoot over Josie. When fire and layers fail, sometimes the best solution to warm up is another warm body”   
  
Josephine protested, she did truly! But Leliana would hear nothing of it. “We can't have you catching your death from the cold, or falling asleep at your desk no? Now hush Josie, its been a long day and we both need sleep.”   
  
The Antivian laid there as still as stone, barely daring to breath. Though Leliana's body had originally be some what chilled when she first slid under the blankets, her friend quickly warmed in their shared cocoon. It was not as if sharing a bed with another was strange to the Ambassador. She had had her share of lovers during her final years of finishing school in the capital of Orlais, and during her time as the Ambassador for Antiva. Such a thing was common. And in Antiva, it was even some what expected for noble youths, men and women, to have a few lovers before settling down in marriage.   
  
And Josephine would be lying if she denied having never thought of having Leliana in her bed in a amorous way. But this was different. She felt keenly aware of every place their bodies touched. The arm that Leliana had casually draped over her waist, the hand so slender and pale resting on her stomach. The way Leliana's knees rested in the hollow behind her own, their thighs touching, the press of her friend's breast against her back. And the warm puffs of breath that fluttered against the back of her neck. The knowlage of all these things, and knowing that beyond the over sized tunic, the only other thing the redhead was likely wearing was her smalls, had Josephine warming in ways that had  _nothing_ to do with survival. 

 

' _Maker,'_ she preyed in her mind. ' _Let me get through this night without making a fool of myself.'_  
  
Some how, eventually, Josephine was finally able to fall to sleep, warm for the first time since they came to this awful and cold place. 

 

**===== === ===== === ===== === ===== === ===== === ===== === =====**

 

**Emprise du Lion:** _(Cassandra x FLavellan)  
  
_ The first thing she was aware of was warmth. She was wrapped in warmth, the source however seemed to be in front of her, cradling her in this warm bit of heaven. For a moment she wondered if she had some how died and had gone to stand at the Maker's side. But she dismissed it as being irrelevant to the warmth she cuddled closer against with a pleased hum.   
  
The second thing she noticed about this warm place was that she was very much naked. Which was not in and of itself a strange thing. As a warrior she had long since shed any sense of shame prudness regarding nudity. And on a rare occasion she found it freeing to sleep in the buff. So that she was naked did not bother her at all. The third thing was that the source of warmth that she was so intimately snuggled against was both giving and unyielding at the same time And smelled wonderfully like mint and vanilla, and a strange something she could not identify but the combination was naggingly familiar.   
  
With her eyes still closed she tried to puzzle out what had happened.. Beyond the warm cocoon she had awoken in she could not make out much. The faint crackle of a fire. The low murmur of voices. One deep, like the distant rumble of thunder. Iron Bull perhaps? The sound of wind rushing through towering trees over head and ruffling the leather and heavy canvas of a winter tent. Had they made camp already? She could not hear much beyond the steady thump-thump under her ear, the sound along with the slow rhythmic rise and fall of the thing that served as her pillow threatening to lull her back to sleep.   
  
The Seeker's brows furrowed as she focused on that steady beat. Like that of a heart? And the rise and fall? - Breathing? Pillows had no hearts to beat or need to breath. Suddenly it all came back to her. They, Lavellan, Bull, Dorian and herself had been trekking through the outer edges of Emprise du Lion after closing a Rift. Cassandra hadn't been paying attention to the ice under her feet as the crossed a section of the river that had frozen over. She had fallen through the ice, her armor threaten to pull her down into the dark cold depths. She had fought, but tired quickly and then she was sinking. Arms, surprisingly strong wrapped around her, a feminine shape in the dark waters, pulling her back to the surface. And then nothing.   
  
She had clearly blacked out while one of the others pulled her out of the waters. Iron Bull had been wearing armor even heavier then her own, and while the Qunari man was strong, he was not  _that_ strong. Nor was his shape anything but masculine. Dorian perhaps then? He was fit, though slender like most mages. But she had seen him training his body, practicing the use of his staff as a melee weapon in the event that an enemy got to close or he ran out of magical energy in a battle. - A prudent course of action she remembered thinking, being secretly impressed by his foresight and willingness to not be wholly reliant on his magic as a means to defend himself and his allies. And unlike Bull and herself, he wore robes, not heavy metal armor.   
Cassandra dismissed Dorian as her likely savior. The Tevinter mage had grown on her true, but he would have used magic to rescue her instead of diving bodily into the freezing waters. That only left....   
  
Cassandra opened her eyes, and lifted her head to confirm what she suspected. The Inquisitor. Of all the stupid, foolish, idiotic.......and selfishly brave things she could do. The damn elf had dove in after her. That she had been able to haul Cassandra back to the surface, soaked and in heavy armor was impressive. She had not thought the Dalish woman so physically strong. But perhaps she should not be surprise. Leliana also favored the bow as Gwen did, and the Spymaster she knew was deceptively strong.  
  
Now that her eyes were open and she was more aware of events and her state beyond simply being warm, she was able to take further stock of things. Carefully as to not wake the slumbering elf, she flexed and tested each of her limbs, curling toes and fingers, inhaling and exhaling deeply. Checking for, and finding no signs of physical injury. She was exhausted still, though she had been asleep for an unknown amount of time. But she knew shock and hypothermia could cause that, more so on top of the already trying events of their day.   
Her movements, careful as they had been was still enough to rouse Gwen. The woman did not awaken, but instead tighten her hold on the Seeker. Cassandra found herself drawn forward firmly against the other woman's chest, face in her neck as the Inquisitor's arm wrapped its self more securely around her waist and a button nose pressed against the top of her head. She froze, the hand that was not trapped between them hovering above the elf's hip as she realized for the first time that she was not the only one naked under their bundle of heavy fur blankets.   
  
Cassandra was sure she was blushing, could feel the flush as it spread from her cheeks down to her chest where it bloomed it to a strange warmth that had nothing to do with shared body heat. She cursed her reaction and scolded herself for it. Of course they were both naked. Their clothes would have been soaked, and both of them freezing. Basic survival tactics for such situation called for just the state they were in.   
  
But now that she was  _aware_ of their shared nudity, Cassandra could not help but be aware of other things. Like how soft the elven woman's skin was and how nice it felt sliding against her own flesh when she shifted to get more comfortable. Or how the muscles on her stomach felt firm under her hand that was trapped between them. Or how her arms, seen bare for the first time held just the right amount of definition and held her strongly and securely and how pleasant it felt to be held. Or, with her face nestled against the crook of Gwen's neck, how good the other woman smelled, the scent of vanilla from her soap, and mint from the tea she likes. 

And how warm she was. So wonderfully, unexpectedly and pleasantly warm.   
  
Despite herself, Cassandra signed contently, feeling her eyes flutter shut as she rested her arm around the Inquisitor's waist and burrowed closer. She was not, she knew, attracted to women. But she could not deny that the warmth that had began in her chest and settled low in her belly was something other than affection and even not so little desire for the elven woman and the elven woman alone. She simply had not been confronted with a situation to make her aware of these things before. 

Cassandra was not as oblivious as most believe her to be. She knew that Gwen had been flirting with her for some time. She had admittedly not be aware at first. And once she realized it, she had been rather flattered by the attention, and confused by her own reaction to it.

She resolved to speak to Gwen once they return to Skyhold, not just about her realization, but also about her foolish heroics..... and maybe do some flirting on her own on the way. For now, as she listened to the steady thump-thump of the other woman's heart, she was much to warm and much to comfortable to do anything more then snuggle and sleep some more

 


	5. The Beauty and The Beholder (Josephine x Trevelyan)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this came out a bit (a lot) different then I thought it would. Kinda jumps around a bit, sorry about that. It also ended up being a lot longer then I thought it would. Like wow. 
> 
> Loosely inspired by a very tiny section of She's With Me by Sacred. I've always wanted to write about a voluptuous Josephine

 

 

**The Beauty and The Beholder  
** _ (Josephine x Trevelyan) _

**== ===== === ===== ==**

 

Two decades on pass the closing of the Breach, at nearly forty-five summers she was beginning to slow down. Her children were almost grown, ready to do bold deeds of their own. The Inquisition was in its final years, as unprecedented peace reign in Thedas. She had every right to wish to enjoy the life she had fought so hard for.   
  
Coming out of the bathroom, Elanor spotted her wife of seventeen years sitting at the vanity by the fire brushing her long hair. A few years older, the thick black mane was beginning to gray, a fact Josephine blamed the Inquisitor and their children for in equal measure. Josie often complain that she felt old and frumpy, bemoaning her lost youth. To the strawberry-blonde Marsher though, she looked as beautiful as she had the day they had met in Haven.   
  
Leaning against the door frame to their en-suite, Elly admired the way the firelight made Josephine's nightgown translucent, the soft lines of her body visible as a dark silhouette through the thin material. The sight took her back to the first time she had seen Josie dressed so. Maker, they had been so young then.

 

It was after the excitement of the House of Repose but before the duel in the Summer Bazaar of Val Royeaux, they had been courting for months by that point. The slow dance of courtly love, they had done little more then kiss and share a few heated embraces that never went beyond a point. Neither wanting to rush, yet unable to get enough of the other. The events at the Winter Palace had left them both busy. Josephine was swamp in letters and contracts and treaties. Elanor was often away, in Ferelden or Orlais, spreading the Inquisitions influence, gathering allies and growing their power all whilst hindering the plans of Coryphious every step of the way.

 

She had just returned late in the evening to Skyhold from the Exalted Plains. Showered, exhausted and out of armor for the first time in weeks she had been on her way to the kitchen to find some grub when a messenger had flagged her down in the great hall outside of Josephine's office. He had been apologetic about bothering her so late, having just arrived not long after her. He handed her a stack of missives, all of them address to the Inquisition's Ambassador, or personally to Josephine herself. Having seen the seal of house Montilyet on one of the letters, she had thought best to take them to the Antivian woman directly.

 

The odd hours they both kept, and their want to spend time together had lead to them establishing an open door policy with each other when it came to their private quarters. It was no longer strange by that point for her to return in the middle of the night from some mission or another and find her way to Josie's quarters with the Ambassador already slept soundly. Or for Elly to feel Josephine crawl into her bed in the wee hours for a few all-to-short hours of rest, cuddled against her side.

 

So she never thought to knock before simply walking in to Josephine's room.

 

The memory still caused her body to heat and her blood to catch aflame with desire.   
  
== ===== === ===== === ===== === ===== === ===== === ===== ==

 

Her brother Logan could wax lyrical on the beauty of women. He was the artist of the family, the romantic, for all he was also the stout warrior and heir. His talented tongue and zest for life made his wife of all these years a very happy and lucky woman indeed. It had been him he took her under his wing, and explained the joys of a woman's beauty to her, opened her mind to see beyond the social ideal of feminine beauty. Oh how he could describe a woman, speaking of daring valleys and sloping hills and smooth plains. As if a woman's body was a secret hidden landscape to be mapped by lips and tongue and teeth.   
  
Elanor had not her brother's gifts with words. Inspiring speeches to the troops, and bold public declarations aside, she tended to have to think very hard about what she said before she said it. Least she ended up tongue tied and making a fool out of herself.

Perhaps if she had his skill, things that night in Josie's quarters would have played out differently. Or at least would not had lead to Cole and Leliana being the ones to help her fix what her failure with words had nearly broke.

 

Josephine had been standing by the hearth in a thin nightgown, braiding her hair for bed her back turned to the door when Elanor came through. The fire back lit her spectacularly, turning her bronze skin to warm gold, and turning her nightgown sheer. Elly's eyes wondered, her gaze starting at Josephine's bare feet and moving upwards. Up along her long legs, calve muscles define from the short heels she wore everyday, pass her knobby knees, her thighs, thicker then she realized, obscured by the knee length nightshift she wore. Her hips, _child-bearing-hips_ her mind whispered, round and perfect to hold onto. The heart shape curve of her ass, the twin dimples just above. The length of her spine, the slop of her shoulders, rounded and relaxed with none of the days tension in them.   
  
Elly had swallowed thickly. In her day to day dress, Josie looked every inch of a proper noble woman, the ideal of beauty and grace. The corsets she wore trimmed her waist and pushed up her boosem. The nightgown did none of these things. It fell freely, brushing along the soft lines of the Antivian woman, highlighting the curves and dips and valleys. She noticed as Josephine turned, that while the ambassador was fit, seen in the soft definition of her arms, and the relative flatness of her belly, her fondness for pastries and all the time spent at her desk had given her a small stomach pooch just above her smalls. Her breast were larger then Elly had expected to. Unrestrained by a corset, the sat heavy yet proud under the sheer fabric.   
  
She remember once commenting on how one of Logan's girlfriend was fat, with her thick thighs and waist and pudgy belly and wide hips and round shoulders and large breast. To a girl of thirteen summers, all skin and bones, she had seemed so. Logan had just laughed at her words.

 

“ _No Elly, my sweet Regina is by no means fat. She is gloriously soft and warm, a woman in every way. With her full curves and hidden valleys I have no fear of hurting her should I grow to passionate when we are alone. She is full in body much as Ser Tamara is, though different. Tamara, as a knight is all muscle, steel under velvet and silk, her curves are slight and tone. Where 'Gina's are loose and free. If I wanted skin and bones I would have become a Mortalitasi.”_

 

Tamara had been a lady knight in the service of their father. She was an older woman, and at the time had been built like Cassandra. Elanor thought Ser Tamara was the ideal of strength and beauty, and had dismissed her brother's words as that of a amorous young man in lust.

 

However, seeing the woman she had been courting for months for the first time in so so very little, she realized that her brother's words were so very true. It had taken her a few moments to realize that Josephine was talking, talking and pulling on a robe, her eyes shy and cast downwards and to the side as if hiding in shame.   
  
Her brows had knotted in confusion over the action. Her lust addled brain not understanding why Josie would feel a need to cover up so. Elanor felt flush, far to hot. And her clothes suddenly felt constricting and itchy against her over heated flesh. All she could think of was covering the distance that separated her from Josephine, pulling the robe from her body, and tearing the nightgown in two just so she could map the alluring form of her love with her lips and hands the way she had started to with her eyes.   
  
Andreste's tits, Josephine may be the ideal of noble beauty during the day, dressed from toe to chin. But here, dressed so, she was a Antivian Goddess. More beautiful then Andreste herself surely. And the warrior woman was barely restraining her desire to worship and ravish her.   
  
“Inquisitor?”

 

“I-uh... er.. Ambassador, there was a messenger...” She held out the bundle of missives for Josephine to take at arms reach, not trusting herself to release the handle of the close door. The two of them agreed to take it slow, to explore their relationship and discover if this was love or just a passing fancy before falling into bed together. At that moment however, that was the _last_ thing Elanor wanted to do. And she was afraid that if she got any closer she would not be able to stop herself from bending the other woman ass-over-tits on the bed a few feet away.   
  
With puples blown wide from desire, she had all but threw the bundle of letters at Josephine and had quickly fled the room. She hadn't known it then. But her strange behavior and sudden exit had caused the other woman to crumple into tears, believing that Elly found the extra meat on her bones repulsive, and her unattractive and undesirable. Leaving the ambassador with a deep sense of shame and hurt.   
The Inquisitor herself had ended up outside on the battlements, gasping for breath and allowing the freezing night air to chill her over heated body and cool her desires.

 

== ===== === ===== === ===== === ===== === ===== === ===== ==

 

The days that followed were awkward and strained. They would only speak when absolutely necessary, using formal titles and language. Josie wouldn't meet her eyes, and Elly couldn't look at Josie period with out envisioning exactly what she wanted to do to, and with the other woman.

It was on day four that things came to head. Leliana had cornered her in one of the empty towers, a sharp knife press to her throat drawing a thin line of blood from her neck. It was only Cole's timely intervention that likely saved her from serious harm.   
  
“I had warned you against hurting Josie!”  
  
“I didn't! I couldn't! I'd never!”  
  
“Silence! She has been crying for days now. She thinks you hate her and find her ugly”  
  
“What? No I--!”  
  
 _ **“She stands stunned, heat filling her body. Wanton desire cursing through her veins. Maker she is more beautiful then Andreste. Fear of forgetting herself, their intentions of taking it slow. She must flee before she does something they'd both regret.”**_  
  
They had turned, two pairs of blue eyes of different shades, to look up at the strange spirit-boy that sat in the rafters above their heads.  
  
 _ **“Her palms sweat and itch with the need to reach out every time she sees her. Skin made golden by fire light, body soft and full. The desire had cooled, tempered but still sharp like steel. It cuts her to the quick curling in her stomach. Fantasies now of making love, candles and flowers and wine. She is a lady, I will not dishonor her in deed or thought.”**_  
  
Cole continued speaking all the thoughts she had had over the past four days even as the sharp blue eyes of the Spymaster turned to regard her, knife still pressed against her throat. Elly could feel herself blushing, embarrassed that Cole is narrating her thoughts to Josie's friend. But she made no attempt to stop the boy-spirit, and met the Leliana's eyes with her own, defiant.

 

“ _ **Confusion over Josephine's distance. Worry at the evidence of tears. She wishes to give comfort but is unsure how. The avoidance and formalities hurt. Her bed is cold and arms empty, yearning.”**_

 

“ _ **She drinks in the tavern, not wanting to return to her empty room. The playful elf drinks too much and attempts to seduce her. Anger, white and hot at the vulgarer insults towards scribbles that spews from the elf's mouth. She calls her a fat cow, and then red jenny jolts back, hand held to a reddening cheek. A cold feeling of shame, guilt over striking a woman. Her father would be so ashamed.”**_  
  
That Leliana did not seem surprise to hear about the confrontation between her and Sera did not surprise her. The redhead even gave her a look of grudging respect over her quick defense of Josephine. Elanor had felt bad. And had apologized to Sera the next morning. She wasn't attracted to her, she had explained gently, and she did not appreciate her insulting the woman she cared for. But she should not have slapped her. It would take a long time, but eventually Sera and her would be alright.

 

“ _ **She has not seen her lady in days. Its always the Ambassador now. There are no smiles for her, nose crinkling cutely, eyes pulling up at the corners as they lighten. Like moss and silt flaked with gold. She misses that smile. She freezes, the sudden realization striking her like a backhand from a high dragon. Oh Maker, I love her. I'm in love with Josephine. It settles, thick and warm on her heart before dread sets it. She hasn't been called Elly since before she left, and it scares her what that might mean.”**_  
  
Slowly, so slowly, the blade was removed from her throat, though Leliana still kept her pinned to the damp stone wall of the empty tower. Blue eyes search Elly's own glossy pair.   
  
“You love her? Truly?” The words are cautious, searching. The Spymaster needing to be sure. Even though she has begun to value the strange gift Cole had, she needed to hear it from Elanor herself. To confirm what her own eyes had told her up until Josie had shown up at her bedroom door in tears. The courtship between her friend and Inquisitor had been slow, and endearing to watch after she had ascertained Elanor's intentions. And they both looked at each other the way she and her warden did before her warden had left to find a cure.   
  
“ _Yes._ ” The single word had been crocked, heavy with emotion and honesty.   
  
“Cole, can you...?” Leliana asked, eyes never leaving those of the Inquisitor even as she took two steps back.   
  
_**“Broken, anguish she sinks to the floor with a choked sob, muffled by a hand as the door slams shut. Rejection was bitter, cold. She knew her body was not perfect. Slender and tone like the highly held ideal. Like it had been a decade ago. But she had thought... “  
**_

“ _ **She avoids her now, unable to meet her eyes, blue like the waters of Railto Bay. She is careful to maintain the image she had crafted as an ambassador, to hide how much the rejection stings. No one will find fault in her work, even if they find fault in her body. “**_  
  
Elanor had let out a choked sob of her on, hands scrubbing against the rough stone wall behind her, to seek a perchous as her body threatens to sink to the floor. In front of her Leliana watched with soft and knowing eyes.   
  
_**“She stares at the letter about her engagement to Lord Otranto late at night. She wonders if its to late to accept it despite having made motions to break it off. Conflicting emotions. Hurt and anger war with love. Her heart feels empty like the Breach is in it and not in the sky.”**_  
  
“S-stop. Plea-se.” She begged as she sunk to the dirty floor. Cole fell silent. And then.   
  
__**“Her face flushes and warmth blooms in her chest. She knows its neither the fire in the hearth, or the bottle of Antivian wine they have consumed that is the cause. She tilts her head up from where it rests on a strong shoulder. Warm eyes smile down at her, their color reminding her of home. She knows what this emotion that fills her is. Love. It is love.”  
**  
It was a memory, the thoughts and emotions of Josephine from before Elly had left to the Plains. They had stayed up half the night cuddled on the sofa in her quarters where they eventually fell asleep. The stiff neck and sore back had been worth waking up to the sight of Josephine snuggled on top of her the next morning. Elly had sat there silently, shoulders trembling with her tears, realizing that in her attempts to honor their desire to go slow, she had unknowingly caused the woman she loved a great deal of pain.   
  
Cole vanished as he often did. And Leliana stood there for a few more minuets. Her eyes fixed out the window as she listened to the sound of the Inquisitor attempt to pull herself together.   
  
“Fix this, for both your sake.” The tone broke no argument. Not that Elly would have given one. Unknown to both Leliana and Josephine, she had had made the arrangements, and issued a challenge to Lord Adorno Ciel Otranto of Antiva before she had left on the mission to the Exalted Plains. She was just waiting to hear back from him.   
  
== ===== === ===== === ===== === ===== === ===== === ===== ==

 

She had gotten a reply from Lord Otranto a day later. He had accepted her challenge, and named the time and place. As all of her attempts to speak to Josephine after the tower incident, Elanor decided to go ahead with her original plan, the one she had made before she had gone off on the mission to the Plains. She took none of her companions with her when she left before dawn on the sixth day. And in a move that had been a little more underhanded then she liked, she had left that letter open, on top of Leliana's desk in the rookery. Knowing full well that the redhead would inform Josephine right away.

 

Looking back now always made her chuckle. She knew that Leliana had done her research on both her and her family. The Trevelyans were Banns of Oswik, and yes, they were known for their piety and connections to both the Chantry and Templar Order. But they also held blood connections to nobility in both Nevarra and Imperium. And business connections in Antiva, Ferelden and Orlais. She was not some backwater noble who did not know how to comport herself accordingly. And in her teen years she had held a great fascination of dueling, a interest her father had supported for many years.   
  
So when she Lord Otranto tossed her a rapier she could not help but flourish it a bit after she caught and offered him the traditional salute before settling smoothly in to a guard stance, taking perverse joy over the nervous look that flashed through his eyes before he managed to school is expression into a over-confident smirk.

The pair of nobles traded blows in a flurry of sparks and flashes of steel. Both of them in accordance to traditionally arrange duels between two nobles for any means were dressed befitting their station. She had chosen formal uniform style dublet and jerkin with trousers in the Trevelyan colors. To make it clear she was not here as the Inquisitor. And he in a more traditional duelist style jacket and jerkin. They both danced expertly, neither giving nor gaining ground. Evenly matched.

 

The duel with naked and live steel drew a crowed of Orlasians who oohed and awed as they struck and parried, using their words as well as their blades to try and strike a hit that would win them the bought. They locked blades, Otranto confidence faltering when he realize he could not simply over power the Marsher woman with strength, and but for the dark flash in her blue eyes, could not break her with his words. They sprung apart, both stumbling on the smooth cobble stone of the Summer Bazaar's streets, before they regain their footing, blades raised, prepared to begin their dance anew.   
  
“Stop!”

 

Both duelist turned at the sound of an unmistkenly Antivian voice. Josephine pushed her way through the crowd, furry written on her face as she stormed over to the pair. Adorno had attempted to say something, a introduction or greeting. But the livid woman heard not a word, marching up to the strawberry-blonde warrior only to strike her across the face with a resounding slap.   
  
“What do you think you are doing?!” The blow stung, but not so much as the shine of tears in Josephine's anger darken eyes or the righteous rage on her face that she brought to bare on Elanor.   
  
“I-” Once again, words failed her. Her tongue tied itself in knots and as the words stilled in her throat.

 

“No. You had no right Elanor Trevelyan. This was not your decision to make!” Josephine began, her body trembled with her suppressed emotions, forcing her to take a few steps away from the blonde woman. “The Inquisition needs you. I need you” She began, tumbling on the second bit, the choking admition clearly one she had not meant to make. “Yet you throw yourself into needless danger! You stupid idiot! _Joder_!”

 

Adorno proved to be a smart man, wisely silent as the rest of the gathered crowd as the Inquisition's Ambassador ranted. Sensing that there was more to the emotion filled display by the famously composed Antivian woman, and the thus far silent Inquisitor.   
  
Josephine turned, eyes still flashing with anger and a dozen other emotions that passed to quickly for Elly to name. For her part, the warrior woman never thought Josephine looked more beautiful, her hair a mess from her mad-dash from the docks to the market square. Clothing rumpled from a sleepless night spent on horse back and then on a ship in order to make it to Val Royeaux in time. Antivian curses spilling from her lips like a she was a sailor. And so exuberant in her indignation as she spun to face Elanor once more.  
  
“ _Joder!”_ Josephine repeated. “Why do this? After....after... just arg! Why risk everything. Why risk your _life?”_   
  
Elanor knew what Josephine meant to say. Why after she had fled from her room, why after days of both of them feeling rejected and depressed. Why would she duel a man for a woman that she, as far as Josephine knew, wasn't even attracted to, or loved.   
  
But Elly was, and she did.

 

So in the middle of the Summer Bazaar, filled with spectators on every level she finally, _finally_ said managed to get her tongue to work.   
  
“Because I love you. Maker Josie, I'm _in_ love with you.”

 

She saw the rage flow out of Josephine the instant the words regestured. Saw it fade from her eyes to be replace with the light of tentative hope, like the first rays of sun peaking out from dark clouds after a bad storm.   
  
“You.... you do?” The reply was tentative, shy, small, but hopeful.

 

The rapier she had held clench tight in her hands fell to the ground with a harsh clutter. Elanor didn't care though, she didn't care that by doing so she had technically lost the duel. The only thing she cared about was the woman in front of her.   
  
“Yes, _te amo_ Josephine. So so very much.” Elanor knew very little Antivian, beyond curses she heard from sailors and mercenaries. But she had been teaching herself in secret to surprise Josie. And it looked like it worked if Josephine's joyful shocked and pleased look was anything to go by. Or maybe it was just the fact she loved her period. Either or.   
  
“I...love you too” And then her arms were full of Josephine. Elly laughed as she caught her, hands around her waist as she lifted her high and spun her around twice. Causing the Antivian woman to shriek and laugh along with her. Once she set Josie back to her feet she found herself pulled down for a very passionate kiss, ink stain fingers tangled in her shoulder length hair, as Josie's other hand lightly caressed the cheek she had previously slapped, her touch a soothing balm as the ignored the way the gathered spectators cheered.   
  


Adorno Otanto had graciously saluted Elly, and explain that he would withdraw his suit upon his returned to Antiva. With the duel clearly over, the crowd quickly dispersed. Though Elanor knew that the spectical would be the talk of the city for weeks. She didn't care though. Not when Josephine was drawing her down for another kiss.

 

== ===== === ===== === ===== === ===== === ===== === ===== ==  
  
They didn't make love for the first time that night. Both had been exhausted and to emotionally rung out from the events of the day and the stress and emotional turmoil of the past week. In her rush, Josephine hadn't packed anything to wear, had hadn't thought about that until after the shops had closed for the night. Instead of offering her one of her large night shirts to wear. Elly managed to convince the other woman of a different alternative. Slowly, standing next to the small lit hearth, Elanor carefully undressed Josephine. She pressed reverent kisses to her neck and shoulders as the became bare, gently coxed her love's arms to rest at her side in order to allow her dress to fall to the floor at their feet. The tips of her fingers brushed down bare arms, as lips danced along the Antivian woman's back.   
  
When she turned Josephine around so that she could unlace her corset, Elly maintained eye contact, her fingers daftly undoing the knot and pulling at the strings until the corset came apart, and Josie was left standing only in her smalls, and a deep blush that crept down her chest. When Josephine tried to advert her gaze, Elanor would cup her chin, turning her head gently to brush their noses together, to trail butter-fly kisses across Josie's cheeks and brow, and chin before lightly kissing her lips until the woman relaxed again.   
  
Then slowly she sunk to her knees before Josephine, hands lightly trailing down her sides like the brush strokes of a master painter, finger tips mapping out the dips and curves and slops. Lips following the center line of her love's chest, down her stomach and over the soft swell of it where she stopped and nuzzled her noses against the small abundance of flesh, grinning into it when she felt Josephine's stomach muscles and sides twitch and heard the quiet little giggle from the woman she loves that her actions caused.   
  
When she finally came to a rest on her knees, hands holding Josephine securely around her thick waist, thumbs teasing the skin along the edges of her smalls she looked up. Looked up at Josephine with a face full of love and adoration, eyes blown with desire, but steady in their gaze. Because tonight wasn't about desire, to night was about making sure that Josephine knew beyond a doubt that Elanor found her very attractive just the way she was.   
  
Long tapered fingers threaded through her blonde hair as Josephine nodded her consent. And slowly she drew down the last article of clothing, hands brushing down Josephine's legs, holding still and acting as a support as Josie stepped out of them, and then standing when she felt the other woman tug on her hair, urging her to do so.   
  
There were tears in Josephine's eyes by the time she was standing, a few escaped, hot and fat only to be brushed away by Elly's thumbs.   
  
“You my dear Lady Montilyet, are gorgeous” The words were spoken with reverence and wonder and love. The woman in question drawing her in for a slow exploratory kiss that seemed to last an age and yet was over in a second.   
  
When the kiss was over. Josephine returned the favor. Slowly undressing Elanor, her touches and kisses light and adoring. Lips tracing scars and blemishes, marks of an active life. The large burn scar on her right side seem to come alive, tingling when Josephine brushed hands then lips over the marred flesh. Elly could tell that which each scar, Josephine curiosity burned brighter. So she smiled at her, a wordless promise to share how she got each one. But later.   
  
Soon they both stood naked, and Elanor drew Josephine over to the bed. The room they had rented for the night was quaint, but nicely furnished, and the bed big enough for two. They laid down under the covers to ward off the evening chill, cuddled against each other, enjoying the sensation of skin against skin.   
  
They talked, a lot. Josephine was flustered to find out just why Elly had fled her room that night. She was embarrassed because of her own reaction afterwards. And because of Cole and Leliana's interference. But she, like Elly was also very thankful to the spirit-boy and the Spymaster. Although Josephine wanted to have words with her dear friend about putting a knife to Elanor's throat.

 

And then they slept, tangled up against each other. And on the marrow they would return to Skyhold.   
  
== ===== === ===== === ===== === ===== === ===== === ===== ==

 

The whole thing had been distressing at the time for the both of them. But they got through it. And now twenty years on, Josephine was very much aware of exactly how much her wife found her desirable. The Ambassador had put on a bit more weight after three children, she'd huff and puff when she'd look into the mirror, lifting her full and heavy breast that had started to sag with age. Or when she'd slap her butt and it would jiggle far more then she'd like. And Elanor would have to remind her all over again that she was beautiful and desirable and perfect.   
  
Of course, it had helped put Josie's mind at ease when, after Elly had been gone for three months a few years ago, she had come out of the en-suite, naked, and Josie had noticed that Elanor's stomach was no longer the rock hard flat stomach it had been when they first met, having soften as she slowly delegated duties and spent more of her time in Skyhold behind a desk, or at their home in Antiva.   
  
In the vanity mirror, Josephine caught her eye, the pair exchanging warm loving smiles. Coming over, Elly offered her wife her hand, which was accepted. With out a word the pair retired to bed, exchanging gentle kisses and soft exploratory touches, relearning each other's bodies all over again as they mapped the changes that sometimes came quicker now that they were both in their forties. Until naked and wrapped up around each other they fell asleep. Content and happy. And very much still in love.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations (Thanks google!)   
> Joder = dammit  
> Te amo = I love you
> 
> Unbeta'd as always. Please let me know what you thought!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you all think. I've actually never written a Dragon Age story before.


End file.
